


Break Me

by Bookkbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Memory Alteration, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you. Be… happy, Dean.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for TEMPORARY main character death and TEMPORARY memory loss

The blood was warm and thick as it soaked into the material of Dean’s sleeves. Too thick, too warm, too  _much_.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean said hoarsely. His vocal cords felt thick too, too big to make sound. "Heal already,  _damn you_.”

Cas just shook his head. He coughed more blood up, shaking violently in Dean’s arms. Dean felt his eyes burn.

There was an angel blade buried in Cas’s chest. Fatal. Dean had known immediately, but he’d prayed that his eyes had betrayed him from a distance, hoped that the blade was just a little more left than it had initially appeared.

"Sorry," Cas gasped out, reaching up to touch Dean’s face. Dean leaned into it and clasped his hand over Cas’s to keep it there.

"Come on, man. You can’t-" There was a long list Dean had of things Cas  _can’t_.

 _You can’t die. Cas, please_.

"Sorry," Cas said again. His voice was weaker this time, but his hand was surprisingly strong when he pulled Dean down to kiss him. The angle was awkward, Cas’s lips tasted like blood, but it was this that made the dam finally break. Dean felt tears sliding down his face and he kissed Cas back hungrily.

Their first kiss,  _damn it all to hell_.

It shouldn’t have been like this. Dean had dreamed about this, dreamed of the moment when things finally came to a boil between them and they met in a clash of lips and tongues. Now he cursed himself for waiting.

His head felt strange, he realized dimly. It felt strange and somehow hollow, like his head was a bag of sand someone had poked holes into and now everything was running out-

His memories.

He tried to pull back, but the damage was already done. He could feel Cas disappearing, fading like he’d never existed and he shook his head frantically.

"Cas, no. You can’t take this-"

Cas smiled sadly, blue eyes shining with his Grace.

"I love you," he said. "Be…  _happy_ , Dean.”

"Cas-" Dean said, desperately, already losing the significance of the name as it rolled off his lips for the last time.

Cas shuddered. His hand slid off Dean’s face and left two small streaks of blood.

His Grace exploded, burning the shape of two large, magnificent wings into the floor beneath him.

Dean stared at the corpse for a moment, then noticed that his jeans were soaked in the guy’s blood. He scowled and pushed himself to his feet.

He heard footsteps in the hall and grabbed at the sword sticking out of the dead guy’s chest. Fuck knew what he was doing here, but if he’d been fighting angels he’d need his weapon.

Sam burst through the door at the end of the room. Dean sighed with relief and lowered the blade.

"Sam, man is it good to see you. You all right?" he asked. Sam nodded, face breaking into a relieved grin. Then he noticed the dead angel behind Dean. His eyes widened in shock.

"Cas!"

Dean half-turned, puzzled. He stared at the corpse, at the wings behind it, then at his brother.

"Who, him?" he asked, jerking a thumb towards the body. Sam’s face was drained of color and he was staring at Dean in horror. He looked devastated for some reason and Dean frowned, stepping closer. "Sammy?"

"You don’t remember?" Sam said. He sounded like he was choking back emotion and his eyes were getting suspiciously red rimmed. Dean shrugged.

"Should I?" He frowned again. "And since when do you get all weepy when some monster gets ganked?"


	2. Remember Me

Dean sat on his bed in the motel, cleaning his gun. The hunt had been easy this time; simple salt’n’burn. The routine was getting dull, but that was all they could take.

The weirdness had started a month ago. Sam had been in mourning ever since he’d insisted that they give the angel in a trench coat a hunter’s funeral. Fuck if Dean knew why.

Sam had also insisted on running Dean through every test in the book since, including a few to check for spells. Again, fuck if Dean knew why. He was perfectly fine, not enchanted, and definitely not acting weird. (He’d run Sam through all the tests as well because, again, since when did Sam start weeping over dead monsters and insist on giving them funerals? Sam hadn’t pulled that shit again, but Dean had felt a little ridiculous throwing gasoline over the corpse and torching the body. Angels couldn’t come back as ghosts and damnit, gas was expensive.)

There was a knock at the door.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. Sam was sitting at the little table in the kitchenette and had been typing away on his laptop. He seemed just as confused as Dean. They weren’t expecting anyone and it was already well past the hours anyone would come calling.

Dean set the gun aside and grabbed one of the machetes. He motioned for Sam to stay put, but be ready; Sam’s silhouette was visible through the thin curtain, but far enough away nothing could shatter the window and grab him. No sense in warning whatever was out there that they were on their guard.

The knock came again, quieter this time, as Dean reached the door. He made sure his grip was tight on the machete (and that the blade was hidden from sight), and threw open the motel door.

A man stood outside, dressed in a trench coat with a black suit and a blue tie underneath. His face seemed oddly familiar, but nothing Dean could put his finger on…

It twigged.

He seized the should-be-dead angel by the collar and hauled him into the room. He slammed the guy up against the nearest wall and leveled the machete at his throat, cursing himself for not grabbing the angel blade. The angel didn’t protest, didn’t even move, just stared at Dean with wide blue eyes like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"What are you?" Dean growled. Nothing walked away from a salt and burn. That was the whole  _point_  of a salt and burn, so what the fuck had brought this guy back?

 

“ _Cas_ ,” Sam breathed. He was suddenly behind Dean, yanking him backwards. “Dean, let him go.”

Dean fought, trying to tug his arms free as Sam tried to pull him back, and in the struggle the sharp edge of the knife nicked the angel’s throat. The guy - Cas? - breathed in sharply.

The cut didn’t heal.

Sam suddenly stopped pulling at Dean, staring instead at the dude still up against the wall.

"You’re human?" Sam asked, stunned. Dean jerked his arms out of Sam’s grasp, though he was more careful not to hit Cas with the blade. An angel might be able to take a stabbing, but humans couldn’t, and if the guy was actually human Dean would get no answers if he accidentally severed the dude’s jugular.

"Yes," Cas said. He cleared his throat. "It is good to see you again, Sam."

Damn, but the dude’s voice was  _deep_. And he had a tendency to stare.

Dean glared at him, taking half a step back to put some distance between himself and those blue eyes. Too much intensity at too close a range; it was making Dean’s skin crawl.

"You too," Sam said, still shocked.

"Dean," Cas said. His voice sounded choked up with  _something_ , Dean didn’t know what, but it set his nerves on edge. When Cas took a step forward, hand extended, Dean stepped back.

"Personal space, pal," he said. Cas seemed not to hear him. If he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. He kept on advancing towards Dean, reaching for him, and Dean was forced to step back until he hit the wall.

He lifted the machete.

"Back. Off," he snapped. The guy didn’t even look at the blade. Dean tossed it aside. He couldn’t kill the guy, not if he was really human. The blade had been edged in silver, the dude had gotten into the room despite warding… he must be human, he wasn’t showing any signs of the supernatural.

He shoved against the guy’s chest as he came closer, something that wasn’t quite panic sliding up his spine. Sam was making no move to help, just standing there, watching as a creepy-ass dead angel with a staring issue seriously invaded Dean’s personal space.

Bitch.

"Sam, little help?" Dean asked. Cas was stronger than he looked and though Dean was trying to push him away, he just kept coming closer.

"Dean… I’m sorry," Cas said. Dean would have asked ‘for what?’, but then Cas’s hands were on his face and he was pulling Dean in. Dean realized why too late.

Their lips touched, gentle and soft.

And Dean was  _gone_.

Memories exploded back into existence like an atomic bomb going off. Dean gasped against Castiel’s mouth, knees weak with the sudden weight of everything he’d forgotten. He was shaking, chest suddenly tight and breathing constricted.

Cas.

Cas was  _back_.

Dean’s hands stopped trying to push Cas off and instead hauled him closer. He crushed their bodies together and took control of the kiss, deepening it. Cas opened for him with a surprised noise deep in his throat.

It didn’t taste like blood this time, but it still tasted like tears. Dean could feel them running down his face and he didn’t give a damn. Cas was in his arms, warm and alive and clutching back at him like he was afraid Dean would vanish.

Vanishing was not  _Dean’s_  MO.

Dean broke off the kiss and buried his face in the side of Castiel’s neck.

“ _Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, you stupid sonofabitch_ ,” he snarled. His hand tightened on Cas’s coat.

"I’m sorry," Cas said again, softly. He made to let Dean go, but Dean wasn’t having it. He could be properly furious with Cas later; for dying, for taking Dean’s memories, for taking so goddamn long to show up again.

For now, all Dean wanted was to feel Cas’s heart beat against his chest.


End file.
